


Consume

by neocitybynight



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25299292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neocitybynight/pseuds/neocitybynight
Summary: Friday night, weed, and your boyfriend's hot roommate. What could be better?
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Reader, Mark Lee (NCT)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 70





	Consume

The world is so much simpler when you’re high. The extraneous, the banal, the anxieties of the world all fall away, leaving nothing but warmth, simplicity, and delicious sensation. 

Currently, you’re lying across Haechan’s lap, the bass of Chase Atlantic’s _Drugs and Money_ pounding through your veins like a second heartbeat, watching as he grinds up another nugget, rings flashing under the neon blue LEDs. 

“You good, babe?” Your boyfriend says, opening up the grinder and giving the weed a shake. “How are you feeling after the first round?”

“It’s indica, I’m fine,” you say, brushing your fingers across a small hole in the knee of his jeans. Golden skin peeks through, winking up at you temptingly through the frayed denim.

“Lick this for me?”

You turn your head, which feels like a mammoth feat in your hazy, floaty state, and find him looking at you, a devilish expression on his face. In his hands is the half-rolled joint, just waiting for you to run your tongue over its pretty paper seam. Leaning forward, you make sure to keep eye contact as you lick the length of the joint, slowly and deliberately.

Haechan bites his lip, exhaling softly as you pull your head back, pressing a parting kiss to his thumb. Pulling a lighter from his jacket and sparking the end, he smolders the blunt against one of his rings and takes a drag, then offers it to you. You inhale, pulling the spiced smoke into your lungs, breathing out a pale cloud that drifts up, up, swirling towards the ceiling before disappearing in, well, _a puff of smoke._

His eyes flick to a spot just over your head, a small smile crossing his heart-shaped lips. “Like what you see, Mark?”

Turning your head, you’re just in time to see Mark cough, fingers fiddling slightly with a red solo cup. “Don’t be shy, come here,” Haechan says. Patting the couch beside him, he pulls you onto his lap, hands closing around your waist.

“What are you doing?” you say, the words thick, heavy in your mouth, watching with mild interest as Mark shuffles over, perching awkwardly on the opposite end of the couch.

“She looks so sexy, doesn’t she?” Haechan continues, still looking at Mark, head tilted to one side. His voice is soft, playful, _dangerous._

“I-” Mark swallows, hard, eyes darting from your face, to Haechan’s, and back again.

“That’s why you were staring, right? Watching her lick the paper, wrapping her pretty, pretty lips around my joint?” Haechan exhales a stream of smoke, head canted to one side, dark eyes fixed on his roommate’s face.

“Haechannie, you know it’s not like that,” Mark says, laughing nervously. “You know I would never...”

“Oh?” Haechan sits up, pressing a kiss to your neck. You shiver a little, skin hypersensitive to the touch. “And what if I gave you permission?”

Turning to you, he brushes his thumb across your lower lip, holding out the pinched end of the joint. “Want to give Markeu a little taste?”

You look at Mark, at the light flush coloring his pale cheeks, the way he runs his hand nervously through that dark, dark hair that looks so soft. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive, but, well, you’re with Haechan, and he isn’t usually so into the idea of sharing. In fact, he once spent a night fucking you into the mattress, hands tight on your wrists, for admitting that you would, objectively, sleep with Mark if you had the chance.

You search Haechan’s face, looking for some kind of trick or reservation, but you find none. A thrill of excitement sparks through your veins as you pluck the joint from his hand, then crawl across the couch to Mark, sliding into his lap. He looks so shy, so bashful, so pretty, as you cup his chin in one hand, pulling his face up, just a little, exposing his throat and lips to you. Taking a drag, you lean down, placing your lips over his ever so lightly, blowing the smoke gently into his mouth.

Mark gasps a little, hands scrabbling hurriedly against the slick leather of the couch for support as he inhales. You take his hands, placing them low your waist, watching with half-lidded eyes as he takes in the smoke. _God, he’s so innocent._ Mark’s eyes snap up to yours, a spark of heat peeking through the nervousness. You take another drag, and this time Mark responds, nibbling your bottom lip a little as you blow smoke into his mouth.

“Now where did you learn that?” You say, laughing softly as you sit back, stubbing out the now-dead joint on the end table next to you. Slipping a finger under his chin, you lean down again, so close your lips are nearly touching. “Who taught you to kiss like that, Mark?”

He shivers, a motion you can feel up your entire body. Hooking his thumbs into your belt loops, hands gripping the flare of your hips, he takes a deep breath, as if to steady himself. Pressed nearly flush against his chest, you can feel the rabbit-racing of his heart. 

Looking to Haechan briefly, you expect to see that blank, drawn expression he gets normally when you so much as mention other guys, but no, on the contrary, he’s leaning forward, tongue wetting his bottom lip, staring at you with an intensity that sends heat rippling up your spine. _Do you want to give Markeu a taste?_

Turning back to Mark, moving before you can lose your nerve, you kiss him. Mark makes a surprised noise against your lips, stiffening against you, but relaxes as you move against him a little, hands sliding into his hair, lips brushing his over and over again until he responds. 

Time slips away as you kiss Mark. At first he’s careful, giving you mostly close-lipped, chaste TV kisses, but you bite down on his lip, tongue flicking out to soothe the spot, and he groans, mouth falling open, kissing you back with a quiet kind of desperation. His hands grip your waist, shaking a little as you kiss your way across his cheek, down the column of his neck, finally settling on his collarbone, where you begin to place featherlight kisses. Adjusting your position a little, your thigh brushes against something hard.

“Ah,” Mark moans. _“Jamkkaman_ , wait, I-”

Pulling back, you catch his face between your hands. “Something wrong, Mark-ah?”

He swallows, Adam’s apple jumping a little. “Should we be doing this? Not that I’m not enjoying it, well, of course I am, not of course, sorry, I mean you’re-” he casts a nervous look at Haechan. 

Your boyfriend leans back against the couch, legs spread wide, a lazy smile on his face. It’s then that you see the beginnings of a tent forming in his jeans, the tapping of his fingers the only indication of his true feelings. “No, by all means carry on, I’m enjoying myself,” he says. “But, if you’re going to fuck her, at least do it on a bed. She deserves that much.”

Mark looks at you, and it’s clear, both from his expression and the hardness against your thigh, that it’s entirely up to you. Your brain whispers that this is probably a bad idea, but your body, slow with weed, buzzing with sensation and the heady thrum of power, flushed with the heat of Mark’s touch, betrays you. 

Slipping your hand into his, you stand up. Shooting Haechan a challenging, sultry look, you pull Mark out of the living room, weaving around other partygoers, down the hallway and into the room you know he shares with Haechan. No sooner are you inside, Haechan closing the door softly behind you, then you pull Mark to you again, crushing your lips to his. Waking him backwards, you push him down onto the nearest bed.

Grinding your hips a little, you smile as his breath hitches, hands moving to grip your thighs. Haechan’s silky laugh whispers from the corner. “You’re so predictable, Mark,” he says, and you turn to see him sitting at one of the pinewood desks, lounging in a spinning chair like a bored CEO. “You want to fuck her? If she’s willing, of course.”

You look down at Mark, who doesn’t speak, only bites his lip, looking at the ceiling. “What do you say, babe?” Haechan says. “Look at how hard Mark is for you, is just a taste enough?”

His words are soft yet taunting, a challenge. He often does this, always daring you to do the crazy and unthinkable, teasing you to the point of recklessness. Sure, it’s usually not in the context of _fucking his roommate,_ but you’ve been with Haechan long enough to know that he’s an experiential junkie. He’ll try anything once, and that includes voyeurism. “Do whatever you want with him, but don’t let him finish inside you. That’s my only rule.”

Leaning back down, closing your eyes against the bad thing you’re about to do, you kiss Mark again. This time, it’s harder, faster, the type that has you moving, writhing against each other as the kiss heats up, hands tearing at each other’s clothes. Before long, Mark lies beneath you, naked, hands shaking as he tries to take your bra off. Eventually, you grow impatient, undoing the clasp yourself, throwing it onto the discarded pile of clothes. 

Mark’s eyes widen as he takes in your naked body, hands rising to brush across your breasts, fully cupping them in his palms at your sigh of encouragement. Sitting up, he presses soft kisses to each, rolling your nipples between his tongue, sucking lightly. “Mark, fuck,” you moan. Dropping your head to his shoulder, your hand wanders down his body, across his stomach, waist, hips, before taking his stiff cock in your hand.

Pumping him a few times, you guide him towards your heat, slowly taking him in. “Tell me when you’re close,” you say, brushing a finger across his bare chest, making him shiver. “Or I may not be able to stop myself.”

Mark moans, falling back against the pillows as you begin to move. Slowly at first, teasing him in and out, before setting your nails into his chest and beginning to ride him in earnest. His hands tangle into the sheets, going white-knuckled as you take him in again and again, a heady wave of pleasure rising, spikes of heat rippling through your lower belly like shooting stars.

To look at him, you’d think Mark was in pain, head thrashing from side to side into the pillows as you ride him, an incoherent mix of Korean and English falling from those beautiful lips. As you thrust again, hips snapping against his, Mark’s eyes fly open. “Oh, shit, stop, I’m close, ah-”

Remembering Haechan’s words, you force your body to still, letting his cock slide out of you, climbing off him. Then you feel rough hands on your hips, Haechan’s bare chest pressing to your back, feel the sting of teeth as he nips your shoulder. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You bite your lip, swallowing a whine as he reaches forward, swirling his finger around your clit. “I know you haven’t cum yet. And you won’t, unless I say so. Again, did you enjoy yourself?”

“Y-yes,” you say, cheeks burning with shame as you see Mark sitting up, moving down the bed a little, still-hard cock red and throbbing against his stomach. 

“Good.” With a grunt, Haechan pushes inside of you. There are times when he’s soft, times when you engage in what you could only call lovemaking, when Haechan just eats you out for what seems like hours, bringing you to orgasm again and again until you nearly forget your own name, but now is not one of these times. Haechan’s hands are rough on your hips, his rhythm punishing as he thrusts into you again and again, taking you from behind.

Looking up, you see Mark, rubbing his thighs uncomfortably together, not touching himself, just watching with a horrified kind of awe. _He’s watching his roommate and best friend of, jeez, I don’t know how many years, have sex,_ you think dazedly, nearly crying out as Haechan hits _that spot_ inside of you, making your knees buckle, forcing a strangled cry from your lips as heat radiates through your body.

“That’s it,” Haechan croons, pressing a kiss to your neck, then biting down, which only adds to the quietly building crescendo inside of you. “You’re mine.”

Where Mark’s compliance had you dripping and drunk on power, Haechan’s blasé dominance has you just as, if not more, turned on, shivers of pleasure racing up your spine and over your skin, the feeling magnified by the drugs and the sensation of Mark watching.

 _“Touch yourself, Mark,”_ you rasp, voice uncharacteristically husky. With a groan, Mark takes his cock in his hand, stroking himself as he watches Haechan fuck you. With one, two, three more thrusts, Haechan is coming, cock twitching, hands squeezing your hips so hard you’re sure you’ll wake up with bruises, spilling himself into you.

His hand drops to your clit at the same time he bites down on your earlobe - one of your more sensitive erogenous zones - and with a cry, you’re coming too. “Fuck, baby, ah-”

At the sound of your voice, Mark’s eyes squeeze shut, and then he’s coming, cum spurting across his wrist. Haechan continues to thrust, fucking you through your orgasm, until you’re both spent. Releasing your hips, he flops down next to you, pulling you into his sweaty chest. “Mark, get out.”

“What?” Mark looks up, a tissue in his hand. “Bro, this is my room too. You’re really sexiling me after all that?”

“Think of it as a thank-you,” Haechan says. “Free weed, fucking my girlfriend.”

Mark blushes, ducking his head. “The two of you, I swear if you didn’t have each other, you’d already be dead.”

“Well, luckily we do, so get the fuck out.”

With a snort, Mark gathers up his clothes, sliding back into his jeans. Halfway in the process of pulling his shirt over his head, he looks back at you. You can see the hickies already beginning to bloom on his collarbone, the small tear in his lip where you bit it. He opens his mouth, but then seems to think better of it. Pulling on his black t-shirt, he shoves his phone in his pocket and pads out of the room.

Haechan winds his arms around you, chin pressing into your shoulder, humming softly. It’s only when you look down, at the guitar leaning against the foot of the bed, at the Canadian flag tacked up on the wall mere inches from your face, at the unfamiliar black sheets (Haechan’s are dove grey) that you realize something. “Haechan, whose bed are we on?”

“Mark’s,” he says, unbothered.

“The fuck, Haechan?”

“It’s the least he could do,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your bare shoulder. “Giving you up for even a minute is worth a lot more than just a bed.”

“Then why did you let him do it?” you say.

He just laughs. “Mark and I have been friends for so many years, I can read him like a book. And I know he’d never make a move on you, even if he...I’ll be honest though, I didn’t think you’d do it.”

“Are you angry, then?”

“Angry?” Haechan dips a finger under your chin, twisting you around to press a kiss to your lips. “At watching my girlfriend seduce my hapless best friend and roommate? Nah, that was hot as fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on Tumblr. ♥︎


End file.
